


I wanna do bad things with you

by loveinadoorway



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, true blood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-21
Updated: 2009-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>EDIT 29.06.2015: This story will not be continued and will remain unfinished!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_  
**AU/Fusion challenge #195 – I wanna do bad things with you 1/?**  
_  
 **Title:** I wanna do bad things with you 1/? **  
Disclaimer:** I play with two favorites of mine here and I know I’m not owning a thing. They’ll report back for duty, maybe short a pint of blood or two, I promise. I had to fiddle around with Quintus Fabius Maximus’ age a bit to make it fit, but the man did die on New Year’s eve of the year 49 B.C. on the very day his term as senator ended.  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Spoilers:** none  
 **Word Count:** ~1491  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas  
 **Warnings:** language, booze, blood, man-on-man action  
 **Summary:**  
Dean is the vampire and Cas is the human – that was the prompt, nothing more, nothing less. So I decided to write something that takes place in the universe of True Blood, but I will not substitute Dean and Cas for any existing characters in the series. We might, however, encounter other characters from both series throughout the story.

  
**Chapter One - When you came in the air went out**

How on earth had he ended up here?  
It was a free for all at the bacchanal, so to speak. One of the most degenerate orgies he had ever landed himself in – and given his personal history, that was saying a lot.  
A couple of centuries ago, he might have embraced the sex, drugs and rock’n’rollishness of it all and thoroughly enjoyed himself, but now?  
Besides, given the sheer amount of depravity that was going on in full sight already, someone was bound to lose control at one point or other.  
The humid Louisiana heat that was seeping through every crack of the building did certainly not help any where moderation was concerned.

In their current situation, so shortly after vampires had come out of the closet, though, the last thing they needed was a scandal.  
Hate groups were already increasing in numbers and public opinion could swing any second at the slightest provocation.  
Freshly made vampires usually had little self control under the best of circumstances and being smack in the middle of all this readily available flesh and - more importantly – blood did not qualify as even marginally good circumstances.  
He was always careful not to let anyone sense his true age, but there were times when having an Ancient around could come in handy.  
So Dean decided to stick around, however distasteful the setup was.

He leaned against the wall in the main hall, lost in his thoughts.  
The hall was decorated in faux Roman style and the badly done statues and murals actually hurt Dean’s eyes. White and golden nightmares with bulging muscles and disproportionate limbs, it was horrid. It had nothing whatsoever to do with what his erstwhile home had looked like two millennia ago. Nothing at all.  
It was disgusting.  
Such an assembly of bad taste should be smitten down by the ancient gods who were so badly depicted all around the hall.

His home had been tastefully decorated. He remembered warm, earthy colors, soft rugs and furs and beautifully executed murals.  
He had a lot more trouble remembering his real name at times, though. It had not been used in over two millennia and he vaguely wondered if he would still answer to it, if someone called him by it.  
He had been born a Roman nobleman in the year 79 B.C. and had become a consul at the extremely young age of 25. Quintus Fabius Maximus had been his name and he was descended from one of the most renowned patrician families in the Roman Empire.  
He had been a soldier and a senator, too and his life had been privileged. Born of rich parents, he had had every creature comfort available at the times. There had never been a shortage of willing women – or men, for that matter – and he had lived his life to the fullest.

He had been the chairman, or dean, of the senate so often that he had started using the word in lieu of his own name even while the Roman Empire was still something to be reckoned with.  
All of his previous life had ceased to matter when he met his destiny in the kiss of a beautiful woman. It had been foolhardy to follow an unknown woman around the corner of a well-lit street into a dark alleyway, but she had been stunning and seemed willing to give him what he craved. In the end, he gave her what she craved and much more besides.  
He had been turned into a vampire on a beautiful spring night in the year 49 B.C. and consequently had to fake his own death on December 31st of that same year to avoid being hunted down and killed for being the bloodthirsty monster he had become.

No use remembering those days, no use wondering about what might have been.  
The here and now was what threatened to turn into a problem, so Dean surveyed the room once again, when suddenly a voice inside of his head screamed for help.  
He tensed and tried to concentrate on the fleeting presence he felt. There was someone in deep trouble nearby and Dean was filled with a strange sense of urgency to find this someone. He had no idea how that person had managed to break through his shields like that, but he could waste no time contemplating that fact now.  
He walked as quickly through the rooms as he could without attracting any unwanted attention.  
Behind a closed door on the ground floor, he hit pay dirt.

A dark-haired man had been tied to a four-poster and two vampires were feeding on him. Usually, that would be quite the enticing little scenario, especially since the man was a looker, but it was clear that this human was definitely not a willing participant and his blue eyes held a look of absolute terror.  
Dean grabbed both vamps and dragged them bodily off the man.  
“Hey, you mental or what?” one of them snarled.  
“No, but you on the other hand definitely seem to have taken leave of your senses. There are willing enough floozies out there, go and grab yourselves a fang banger or two and do them.”  
“And who do you think you are to give us orders?” the other vampire growled.

“I am the one who promises an ugly death to you if you don’t behave yourselves. Now leave. I will decide your punishment later.”  
With those last few words, Dean allowed for some of his power to bleed through his shields. Just enough to make the two vamps realize that they may have made a mistake in talking back.  
They scrambled from the room, looking scared.  
He walked over to the bed and laid a hand on the man’s naked shoulder.  
“It’s alright now, you’re safe.”  
No reaction. Strange.  
He started to untie the human, then picked the man’s shirt up from the floor and silently handed it to him. The dark-haired man had not said a word, but he took the shirt and quickly shrugged into it, buttoning it up as fast as his shaking fingers permitted.

Dean had the feeling he should at least try to repair the damage that had been done as much as he could. He was contemplating the possibilities, when the man suddenly spoke.  
“I guess this is the point where you start messing with my memories.”  
The man’s tone was almost expressionless.  
Dean smiled in spite of the situation. The man was no dummy and obviously knew at least a few things about vampires. Yes, that was one of the options he had considered, but he disliked rearranging people’s minds like that.  
So he said quietly: “Actually, I was contemplating offering you money. Erasing memories can so easily damage a person that I personally don’t feel it should be done as often as it is being done by some.”  
“Money? You got to be kidding me,” the man snarled. Emotions, finally.  
“Yes, I can see now that you are not the kind of person who would react well to bribery. Still, money for damage is a valid trade, you can’t blame me for trying.”

The man looked completely and utterly disgusted at that.  
Strangely enough, Dean found that unsettling.  
He didn’t usually consider the feelings of humans he encountered. It grew harder with age to remember human concerns and recall what used to propel his own actions so many centuries ago.  
“Okay. I am trying here. What was done to you was wrong and I will see to it that those two vamps will be punished. Other than that, I would like to offer some form of reparation to you, if only to show you that we are not all alike.”  
The man shook his head.  
“I don’t think there is anything you can do to make this okay.”  
“Of course not. You are missing the point. It was not okay and as you rightly say, nothing will make it okay. But that doesn’t mean I cannot try to make it up to you in some way. I can offer money, but you don’t want that. So I would like to know if there is anything else I can do.”

The man looked at his hands for a few minutes. Obviously, there was something that Dean could do and the man was now trying to decide if he should mention it.  
Finally, the man took a deep breath and got up from the bed. He walked over to Dean and held out his hand.  
“My name is Castiel Lafitte. And yes, there may be something you can do for me.”  
Dean shook Castiel’s hand, remembering not to apply too much pressure at the last second. He did not usually touch humans at all these days, if he could help it.  
“You may call me Dean. What is it I can help you with?”  
“I need you to find and kill my father.”  



	2. Chapter 2

_  
**I wanna do bad things with you 2/?**  
_  
 **Title:** I wanna do bad things with you 2/? **  
Disclaimer:** I play with two favorite things of mine here and I know I’m not owning a thing. They’ll report back for duty, maybe short a pint of blood or two, I promise.  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Spoilers:** none  
 **Word Count:** ~1933  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas, Eric  
 **Warnings:** language, booze, blood, man-on-man action  
 **Summary:**  
Dean saved Cas from being drained by other vampires and offered to do Cas a favor to make up for the way those vampires treated him. The favor sends them off on a weird and dangerous path.  
 **Chapter Two – And every shadow filled up with doubt**

Now that was not entirely unexpected, he just hadn’t expected something like that from Castiel. The man had seemed… different from the rest.  
If Dean had had any illusions of ever reaching the point where humans would cease to surprise him, he would have had a nasty shock now. But as it was, he didn’t have any such illusions in the least and so the terse sentence, spoken in a wonderful Southern drawl, did nothing more than cause a mild, surprised tingle to run down Dean’s spine.  
Of course, if a vampire offered you a favor, you’d immediately scan your friends, family and acquaintances list for people you would rather do without and ask the vamp to do the dirty. Vampires just fit the bill so perfectly, didn’t they? Murderous brutes that they were…

Dean wasn’t squeamish and wasn’t adverse to violence, if the situation called for it, but cold blooded murder was illegal, plain and simple and the Vampire Act had made all the necessary provisions for trying and sentencing any vamp who crossed the line.  
“There are… extenuating circumstances. But I would be grateful if we didn’t need to discuss them here and now,” said Castiel in that beautiful, controlled voice of his. Fair enough, maybe the man did have a good reason, a compelling reason, even. That remained to be seen.  
“Alright, we leave, then,” replied Dean, turned and opened the door. “But first, I have to take care of something.”  
They silently walked back to the main hall, where Dean told Castiel to wait beside a statue whose base inscription said it was supposed to depict Jupiter, but that rather looked like a pig with a monkey head attached to it.

Dean didn’t seek out the two vamps that had attacked the human. If you had a problem, go to the source, the old general who had taught him war tactics had always said.  
So instead of finding the two vampire fledglings, he looked for and found their maker. The woman stood next to an S&M bondage ensemble and admired the brutal handiwork, when Dean quietly stepped up to her and slammed her unceremoniously into the next wall.  
“Control your get, woman,” he snarled into her frightened face. “They attacked a human. An unwilling human. Be glad I’m in a forgiving mood tonight, or else come sunrise, you’d be nothing more than a disgusting stain on this incredibly ugly carpet.”  
He let go of her and said, more than just a hint of fang showing: “And if I ever see one of your offspring doing anything out of line again, you can rest assured I will no longer be inclined to be forgiving at all. Am I making myself understood?”

He strode into the hall, grabbed Castiel and walked them both to his car without a word. He had a feeling that he should probably also have taken care of whoever it was that organized this orgy, but he just wasn’t in the mood of trying to find that person right now. The Northman would know and might be persuaded to see to it that that person would not host such feasts again.  
As he pulled out of the driveway, he noticed Castiel watching him intently in the rear view mirror.  
“What is it?”  
“I can see you.”  
“Well, I would hope you can,” replied Dean with a wry smile. “Otherwise, you’d have reason to worry.”  
“No, in the mirror, I mean. I thought…”  
“There are more myths than truths out there about us, Cas. Don’t believe everything you read in a novel or saw on screen.”  
They drove in silence for a while.  
“You have freckles,” Cas said quietly all of a sudden.

“Apollo’s kisses,” his mother said to him, as she gently cupped his chin with her beautiful hand and pressed her lips softly on the smattering of freckles on his nose.  
His father had frowned at his green-eyed, ginger-haired son and had despised the freckles for being a sign of plebeian blood. True patricians did not have freckles. His father had found fault with every single thing Dean ever did and saw to it that his displeasure left adequate impressions on the young boy’s body and soul.  
Dean could still recall his mother’s sweet voice vividly, as she sang him a song about Apollo, the God of light and how his kisses marked the face and body of a human woman he had made love to.  
He couldn’t have been older than six or seven at the time, but he still knew the air smelled of freshly baked bread and gillyflower. He had all but forgotten so many things from his long life, but this moment, of all things, had stayed with him.

“I apologize, if that remark was in any way inappropriate,” whispered Castiel into the prolonged silence.  
“No, I just… recalled something that was once said to me,” said Dean tersely as he banked a hard right onto the highway.  
“Where are we going?”  
“A bar. I need a drink,” Dean said and got a perverse little thrill out of the distinct wince on the passenger side of the car. This night was wreaking havoc with his equilibrium. He couldn’t recall the last time he had been in such a strange mood.  
They drove the rest of the way in silence. As they pulled into the parking lot at Fangtasia, however, Castiel quietly asked if they couldn’t perhaps got to a different kind of bar. The human smelled of fear.  
“You’re safe with me,” growled Dean, taken rather unreasonably aback at what he perceived to be a lack of trust in his abilities to keep his human companion safe.

Preposterous, really, when he was much older than Eric, the owner of Fangtasia and sheriff of the area.  
They had an agreement, Eric and he.  
It had been necessary, as Dean was the older vampire, to come to such an agreement to make his life less problematic. They had agreed that neither had any skin in the other’s game and so they could simply coexist in a fairly relaxed atmosphere.  
It had been rather hard to reach that agreement, however, since Eric still, after all those centuries, remained a Viking warrior at heart, while Dean had long ago come to the conclusion that there were hardly any things left worth fighting for, his continued existence aside.

In the end, Dean had simply fully unshielded, had let Eric feel the additional weight of almost a full millennium.  
The Northman had actually stumbled back a step, before he had been able to control his reactions and reign in his instincts. But then he had surprised Dean and possibly even himself by inclining his head in the tersest, most minimalistic of bows.  
Dean had made sure to treat Eric as an equal from then on out, though. On the one hand he did it to make sure Eric wouldn’t feel tempted to rebel against his intrusion into the Viking’s own territory, but also out of respect for the man. Eric was highly intelligent and Dean would rather have him as a formidable ally than as a formidable foe.

Being able to hide one’s age was a talent apparently not all vampires possessed – or maybe most older vampires simply did not see the necessity and thrived on the fear and admiration from their inferiors.  
Dean had learned, however, that most of the time, it was a good idea to be inoffensive, to blend in rather than to make a show of one’s powers and be confrontational 24/7.  
It was a lot less hassle and one was far less likely to wake up with the sun in one’s face and a stake through one’ heart or silver poisoning one’s blood.  
Plus, he liked to make use of the shock value a sudden disclosure of his true age would have. It did give him a distinct advantage in a fight.

As Dean walked towards Fangtasia’s entrance, he didn’t even turn his head to see if the human still followed him. Mostly, because he generally wouldn’t have a human in tow in the first place, nor cared about the human if he had one in tow. But also because he had an odd feeling about this particular human and didn’t wish for anyone to notice that he paid special attention to him.  
The bouncer bowed and let him through.  
“I… I’m with him,” he heard from behind.  
“That’s right,” Dean growled and heard the rope being removed from the entrance again to let the human pass.

A hand gripped his sleeve. He didn’t slow down, just curtly said: “You have nothing to fear here while you’re with me.”  
“That’s not what… I didn’t mean to imply…,” the man whispered softly. “I just don’t want to discuss anything here.”  
“Okay. Then we’ll just grab a drink and discuss your little problem later.”  
Dean gave Eric a polite nod as he passed his booth, then settled down on a stool at the bar. The bartender put the usual shot glass in front of him. He drained the rust-colored liquid in one gulp, then motioned for another one.  
Castiel sat gingerly on the stool next to him and ordered a beer.

Castiel was flustered.  
He didn’t wish to be inside a vampire bar. All those fangbangers made him nauseous and the vamps themselves gave him the creeps.  
Except for Dean.  
He seemed okay, even if he was a bit touchy about the oddest things. Dean seemed a bit more accessible and less… otherworldly than the other vamps. More human, somehow. Well, maybe he hadn’t been a vampire for long.  
Cas wondered if that would be an okay question to ask.  
The longer he pondered the issue, however, the less certain he became. How would one pop that question in the first place? How old are you? Been dead long?  
No, he guessed this probably wasn’t an okay question to ask.

And neither probably was enquiring about the content of the shot glass a good idea. It didn’t look like blood, even though the color of the liquid seemed to indicate that blood was an ingredient.  
Cas didn’t know if vampires could ingest anything else but blood. Yet another question he so did not want to ask right now.  
The silence, however, was unsettling, to, so Castiel turned towards Dean and said: “I’m a n-nurse.”  
Dean turned his head and cocked an eyebrow at Cas.  
“I… I thought you might want to know something about me? So, I’m a nurse at County General. I’m 35 years old.” Cas faltered under the stare and the cocked eyebrow.  
Dean snorted a laugh and looked down at his shot glass. “So you’re a 35 year old male nurse. How the hell did you end up in the middle of an orgy, being sucked on by vampires?”

“My car broke down yesterday. A colleague of mine agreed to take me to work with him. After work today, he said he was going to a party and did I want to come with. Guess saying yes wasn’t one of my better ideas, huh?”  
Wow. A whole speech without a single stammer in it. Dean guessed Castiel was starting to relax around him a bit.  
“How well do you know that colleague?”  
“Apparently a lot less well than I had thought,” said Cas angrily.  
Dean drained his glass and again motioned for another one. He was just going to say something nasty along the lines of misplaced trust and taking care of oneself, when a pale, elegant hand landed on his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

_  
**AU/Fusion challenge #195 – I wanna do bad things with you 3/?**  
_  
 **Title:** I wanna do bad things with you 3/? **  
Disclaimer:** I play with two favorite things of mine here and I know I’m not owning a thing. They’ll report back for duty, maybe short a pint of blood or two, I promise.  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Spoilers:** none  
 **Word Count:** ~1820  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas, Eric, Pamela  
 **Warnings:** language, booze, blood, man-on-man action  
 **Summary:**  
Dean saved Cas from being drained by other vampires and offered to do Cas a favor to make up for the way those vampires treated him. The favor sends them off on a weird and dangerous path.

 **Chapter Three - I don't know who you think you are**

“It’s been a while, Dean,” said a cool female voice.  
Dean removed the hand from his shoulder and placed a perfunctory kiss on top of it, before letting it go. He very much disliked being touched.  
“Good evening, Pamela,” he said evenly without turning.  
“You do know that stuff is not good for you, don’t you, darling?” she asked in dulcet tones that made it perfectly obvious that she a) couldn’t care less if he just upped and died and b) was exceedingly displeased to see him.  
Somehow, Pamela had taken offense with the presence of another strong vampire in the area, somehow she suspected foul play regarding Eric’s acceptance of Dean and somehow she had taken it into her head that she was the one responsible for keeping Dean in line.  
Dean found Pamela amusing.

“And who is your companion? I must say, I’m very surprised. I have never seen you consort with humans before.” She managed to put multiple layers of meaning into the single word ‘human’ – not a single layer being pleasant, of course.  
Castiel scrambled from his stool and held out his hand to Pamela, saying: “My name is Castiel Lafitte. Please to meet you, ma’am.”  
A veritable model of good, old-fashioned Southern chivalry. Dean was sure the man would’ve tipped his hat at Pamela, had he worn one.  
Dean had a hard time hiding his smile.  
Pamela looked flustered.  
In the end, she shook Cas’ hand with a slightly distasteful expression on her face.

“Eric would like to speak to you,” said Pamela, turning to Dean.  
He slid from the bar stool and walked over to Eric’s booth, motioning for the human to follow him.  
The Viking was lounging on an armchair.  
When Dean approached, Eric stood up and held out his hand. It was unusual for vampires to shake hands, but for some reason, they always did when they met. Part of their ritual.  
“Eric. You are looking well,” Dean said in measured tones.  
“It is good to see you. You have been making yourself scarce, Dean.”  
They shook hands and Eric asked Dean to sit.

“Castiel, take a seat,” Dean said quietly to the human.  
“Interesting, Dean.  I don’t think you have ever shown up around here with a human before,” Eric said, with a sharp look at Castiel.  
The Northman wouldn’t let that one go, Dean was sure. He would make enquiries, of course, as any good sheriff would.  
“He was attacked by two vamps at a party. Well, it was more of an orgy, actually. You might want to look into that, it wouldn’t do to attract too much attention with that kind of stuff.”  
Eric nodded. Dean had a point there, of course. Their status was still too uncertain to risk bad press about depravity, orgies, rape and such.  
“Does he need medical attention?”  
“No, he is more or less fine. I am merely seeing him safely home and wanted a drink to wash the taste of all that nastiness from my mouth,” Dean said calmly.

“Do I need to intervene with the vamps who attacked him?”  
“No, I took care of things,” Dean said and made a deprecating move with his hand.  
Eric merely nodded at that, which spoke volumes about the trust they had built.  
He could easily have taken offense at Dean taking matters into his own hands, but the Viking apparently was comfortable enough with letting Dean settle things.  
In Eric’s own territory, no less.  
“They still live. I merely impressed upon their maker that I would no longer be so lenient would they repeat the offense.”   
Subtle assurance there that he was respecting the boundaries and hadn’t spilled any blood without asking the sheriff’s permission.

It was not unlike a dance. One wrong move could tip the scale, but Dean wasn’t going to make any wrong moves any time soon.  
Open communication between them was a must.  
Up to a point.  
Dean liked to play things safe and Eric didn’t need to know absolutely everything.   
The delicate balance of power and trust shouldn’t be shaken by something small and insignificant like this.  
There simply was no need to mention any favor Dean had granted and now owed the human.  
Now if only the human in question kept his beautiful mouth shut, they could be out of here without further ado.

Castiel understood that there was a lot going on that was not put in words. Layers of meaning that bubbled underneath the surface of calm words and polite nods.  
He had the feeling that the two men… vampires… could just as easily be foes than allies and that it would not be a good thing to direct attention to himself at this point.  
He wasn’t sure, but he got the feeling that Eric held a position of considerable power, but that Dean was the more powerful vampire in the end.  
He didn’t know what it was that communicated the power discrepancy to Castiel, but he did have the distinct feeling that this was something he should under no circumstances mention.  
Best be discreet, best try to be invisible.

Dean got up, made his goodbyes and flicked his fingers at Castiel. If the human had any objections about being called to heel like a dog, he didn’t mention them.  
They walked out of the club and towards Dean’s car.  
Cas had been surprised when they walked towards it in front of the house earlier. He would have thought that someone as powerful, sleek and elegant as Dean would drive an equally sleek, elegant and powerful sports car, but the vampire drove an old muscle car. Cas wasn’t entirely sure, but it seemed to be a ’67 Chevy Impala, black and in pristine condition. The engine purred and roared, the car was pure sex in motion and it was the least unobtrusive thing one could imagine.  
No, definitely not the kind of car Cas would have thought someone like Dean would drive.

“Are… are you sure you’re fit to drive?” Cas asked.  
The second the words left his mouth, he wished he hadn’t said a thing. It definitely was not a good idea to question the actions of a vampire, let alone question if he could hold his liquor.  
Dean turned to him and his green eyes seemed to glow in the dark. Surely just a trick of the light, right?  
“And why wouldn’t I be?” The vampire’s voice was very soft, but with a dangerous undertone.  
No way out of that one now. Castiel took a deep breath, then mumbled something about not knowing what those drinks had been and how vampires would be affected by… whatever it had been…  
At that point, Dean audibly growled.  
“Get. In. The. Car,” he snapped.

They drove in silence, after Dean had gruffly demanded Castiel’s address.  
The night was hot and Cas rolled down the window on the passenger side, leaned his head against the doorjamb and let the hot, humid breeze play over his face. The air smelled of night-blooming jasmine, one of his favorite scents.  
 He wasn’t sure if it had been a good idea to involve the vampire in his problem, but frankly, he had run out of options a long time ago.  
The vampire was not directly involved and any action taken by him would not lead to further complications, like blood feuds and tribal wars.  
Insofar, Dean was a godsend, albeit a reluctant and fairly unpredictable one.

Dean was unsettled and he didn’t like that one bit. For some reason, the human was affecting him in strange ways.  
He was too old to be shaken by a pair of blue eyes and a kissable mouth. He had seen too many generations come and go to still care about humans.  
He was most certainly not interested in this man in any capacity, most of all not in a sexual one. He would – if it suited him – do the favor he had promised and then he would see to it that he would not see Castiel Lafitte again.  
And there was no part of him that felt a strange pull whenever he looked at the man. No part of him that had felt that pull the second he had first laid eyes on Cas after he had opened that goddamned door in that motherfucking house. And he absolutely had not heard the man’s cry for help inside of his head.  
That simply was… inconceivable.

They reached the house.  
Cas lived in his uncle’s old house. It was a long way from the next settlement, but the solitude suited Cas and he preferred the sounds of nature to the hustle and bustle of a small town life, anyway.  
After a long day at the hospital, where he had to answer to so many people, had to smile and be cheerful even in the face of debilitating diseases and death itself, he just wanted to be by himself.  
He unlocked the door and walked into the spacious kitchen. He started to relax almost immediately. His home, his nice, clean kitchen, the familiar smells.  
If not for Dean’s presence, this would all feel perfectly normal.  
He turned to ask the vampire if he wanted a drink.  
To his surprise, Dean was still standing outside.

“What’s wrong?”  
“You have to invite me in.”  
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to pay attention to the old vampire lore? Seems at least a few things are true after all, then,” Cas drawled with a small smile.  
Dean just stared hard at him.  
“Come on in. Is… is that enough, or is there a … like… a special word one has to use?”  
Dean silently walked into the kitchen with measured strides, looking to all intents and purposes exactly like what he was, a large and deadly predator.  
His green eyes flashed and Cas was reminded of the tiger he had seen in Audubon Zoo in New Orleans years ago. He had watched the animal laze about in its enclosure. It had looked like an overgrown kitten, right until the moment it had spotted something, tensed and turned into something as lethal as it was beautiful in the blink of an eye.

Dean declined the offer of a drink.  
He sat down at the kitchen table and started toying with the pen the human had obviously used to solve the crossword puzzle in yesterday’s newspaper.  
Castiel got himself a beer from the fridge and sat down opposite Dean.  
He took a deep breath.  
“My father…. My father is a true threat to society. He needs to be put down. If he isn’t stopped, many people will die.”  
“Have you tried to stop him?”  
“Yes. I spent six months in traction and damn near lost a kidney.”  
“I see,” Dean said quietly and twirled the pen between his fingers. “And the reason your father is so hard to kill is…?”  
“My father is a shifter.”


	4. I wanna do bad things with you 4/? - SPN/True Blood fusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean saved Cas from being drained by other vampires and offered to do Cas a favor to make up for the way those vampires treated him. The favor sends them off on a weird and dangerous path. I get to play with the very best myths and bits of history ever. Romans, vampires, shifters and now the beast of Gévaudan. Yay me.

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**I wanna do bad things with you 4/? - SPN/True Blood fusion**   
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**Disclaimer:** I play with two favorite things of mine here and I know I’m not owning a thing. They’ll report back for duty. Maybe short a pint of blood or two, maybe a bit chewed on the edges, but they will, I promise.  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Genre:** slash  
 **Spoilers:** none  
 **Word Count:** ~2050  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Dean/Cas, Eric, Pamela  
 **Warnings:** language, booze, blood, man-on-man action  
 **Summary:** Dean saved Cas from being drained by other vampires and offered to do Cas a favor to make up for the way those vampires treated him. The favor sends them off on a weird and dangerous path. I get to play with the very best myths and bits of history ever. Romans, vampires, shifters and now the beast of Gévaudan. Yay me.  
Artwork by the wonderful [](http://wingfrog.livejournal.com/profile)[**wingfrog**](http://wingfrog.livejournal.com/)

Chapter Four – But I know this much is true   


It had happened on a dark, cruelly cold night in the Margeride mountains.  
It was the year of our Lord 1767 and marauding bands of soldiers were pillaging and plundering their way through the Gévaudan province.  
It was an unusually harsh winter. Snow covered the ground several feet high and travelers caught outside at nightfall ran the danger of freezing to death if they didn’t find shelter soon.  
Rumors were flying around of a beast that attacked the defenseless. A creature that thrived on the blood of women and children, the scourge of the poverty-stricken villages in the barren valleys of the Margeride mountains.  
For three years, this beast had managed to escape detection and the death toll had gone up to 113, 68 of which had been children. 98 of the corpses that were found had been partially eaten and the villagers and noblemen in the area had long begun to lash out against anyone who seemed different, odd, or suspicious.  
A blue moon was hanging in the sky. An ill omen, a bad sign, rare and wild and calling to the creatures of darkness.

The beast was cornered, bleeding from many wounds, fighting for its life and raging against the attackers.  
It didn’t have a snowflake’s chance in hell, or so it looked.The attackers were strong, determined and vicious – and they were many.  
The beast bared its fangs.  
It would not die, not here, not tonight. It would not die by fang and claw of those it had come to hunt down and kill. It needed to end the savage reign of fang and claw, so that no more innocent bystanders would be suspected to be the perpetrators and killed by angry mobs.  
It had taken its stand, the barren rock face at its back and it would not budge. Nor would it rest until each and every one of its attackers was dead.  
The sharp tang of blood filled its nostrils and snarls, growls and yelps rang in the cold air.

The beast shook its head, tried to dissolve the red fog hazing its brain.  
It… no, he.  
HE.  
He shook himself.  
He was still a person, no matter how badly they had wounded him, no matter how low he would have to stoop to win this fight.  
Even if he did have to let the beast out of its usually carefully locked cage right now, he was still Quintus Fabius Maximus, senator’s son, Roman consul, soldier, nobleman and vampire.  
He had not held on to the last vestiges of his humanity for 1800-odd years to go completely feral now. He was not human anymore, of course, but neither was he a monster and he was here to fight evil.  
He snarled, once more baring his fangs at his attackers, not that it did any good. He crouched and lunged at the pack leader, determined and lethal.

Dean slowly refocused on Castiel. The man was staring at him with those unbelievably intense blue eyes, as if he was expecting to be kicked for what his father was.  
“Are you also a shifter?”  
“No. I’m fully human, like my mother.” Castiel opened his mouth again as if to add something, but obviously thought the better of it and shut his lips again tightly.  
“Being a shifter in itself is not a bad thing. There are rules. They have their structures and hierarchies and being territorial, they tend not to cause mayhem for fear of being detected. By and large I have had little trouble with shifters since I became a vampire,” said Dean calmly, forcing the memories of Gévaudan firmly back into the dark corner of his mind, back to where the bad things lived.  
“So, what’s the deal with your father exactly?”

Cas had seen the vampire’s eyes start to swim with the blackest of emotions.  
It had been a scary sight but he had still been sorely tempted to ask Dean about whatever memory had caused that look.  
The steel shutters had slammed down firmly, however, before he had the chance to even formulate his question. It was weird how he felt propelled towards asking the most intimate questions of a person who could rip him to shreds without even breaking a sweat.  
By right of law, he should be terrified of the vampire and not feel this odd… compassion? Attraction?  
He should not go down that path. Dean was not human, not by a long stretch of the imagination and all those weird feelings should be put under lock and key.

One question remained to be considered carefully right now, though.  
How much should he tell Dean?  
He expected the vampire to help him, so he had the moral obligation to make sure Dean had all the intel he needed to do what he had promised to do and not get hurt in the process. But just how much intel was that?  
It had been beyond horrible to even ask the vampire to kill Cas’ father.  
His whole upbringing, his morals and his religion had rebelled against the thought. Still, Castiel knew he also had an obligation to society, to all those innocents who would surely be hurt or even killed. Their blood would be on his hands, unless he did everything within his power to stop his father. And since his own physical power was insufficient, he had to make use of Dean’s.  
Simple as that.  
Only none of this was simple in the least.

“My father… I don’t really understand what is going on. He is the pack’s alpha and everything was… normal… until about a year ago. Suddenly, there were mysterious deaths in his community.” Cas paused, a pained expression on his face.  
“Were the corpses found?” Dean asked, leaning forward slightly.  
“Yes. The people had been literally torn to shreds, some corpses looked half eaten.” Cas shuddered. He had seen two of the corpses and the sight and smell had stayed with him ever since.  
“Did it come completely out of the blue, or was there something going on before it all started?” Dean asked, expression very serious.  
“ It started after my father went to a gathering of shifters in Black Mesa, Arizona.”

Dean frowned.  
Black Mesa was a mystical area, an old tribal gathering place. And not exactly a spot of happy vibes and good karma, either. It seemed odd that shifters would gather there. They usually avoided places where bad things had happened, as their preternatural senses picked such vibes up.  
Black Mesa would have made the shifters highly uncomfortable.  
Hell, it had made Dean himself highly uncomfortable when he had gone there to meet with a Navajo vampire a few years back.  
“Did he say what the purpose of the meeting was?”  
“He said that someone wanted to introduce himself, someone who could help with the shifters getting civil rights, too, like the vampires.”

The Beast started to crawl out of the dark recesses of his mind again.  
It sounded like Gévaudan.  
Déja vu all over again, Dean thought.  
The rock solid shifter community that went bad after some secret shifter gathering had taken place. Talk of vague promises of shifter acceptance by society, shifter dominance, even. Then the savage killings without any attempt at hiding the evidence. And if Dean took the injuries Cas had sustained into account, there was also evidence of a father turning against his own blood.  
Blood lines meant everything to shifters and even though Cas was fully human, under normal circumstances his father would not have gone against him, no matter what the argument was.

His thoughts went back to that winter night.  
He didn’t like to remember the look in the werewolves’ eyes as they attacked him again and again. Eyes alight with red fire, foam at their mouths and the dark, robed figure that stood in the shadows the whole time, chanting something in a language Dean didn’t understand. The green fire that had leapt from the robed figure to the pack leader, making him stronger than usual, making the eyes glow even redder.  
He had killed them all.  
Had literally torn each and every single one of them apart, making damned sure they couldn’t possibly heal, nor be put back together by some atrocious piece of black magic.  
To this day, he had no idea how he had managed. He had been damn near beaten, when something inside of him gave and he got a burst of strength he hadn’t known he possessed.

Dean took a deep breath and said: “I have seen something like this before. At least, it sounds like…”  
He looked intently at his fingers and fell silent.  
“Did you… were you able to stop them?” Castiel looked anxiously at Dean’s bowed head. This didn’t sound good and the fact that the vampire wasn’t meeting his eyes reinforced the impression.  
“Yes. I had to kill them all, though.”  
Dean once more started to twirl the pen around.  
Castiel swallowed convulsively. His father’s pack had 23 members. People he had grown up with, good people.  
“It doesn’t mean it has to work this way in this case, Cas,” Dean said quietly. “I was alone back then and had no way of finding out another way to stop it. Things are different now.”  
“What had caused it?”  
“Black magic. Of the worst kind. But, as I said, I didn’t have any opportunity to do research, I didn’t know anyone in the area, nor could I have safely talked about magic back then, anyhow.”

“When… when did that happen?” Cas nervously licked his lips, not entirely certain if he really wanted to know how far back in the past Dean had to fight those other shifters. How old Dean might be.  
“1767. In France. The Gévaudan province, to be precise.”  
That rang a bell somehow. If only he could remember where he had heard that name before…  
“You may have heard of the Beast of Gévaudan before. They even made films about the legend lately. Only, it wasn’t one Beast, it was a whole pack of werewolves gone bad.”  
“Oh, right, yes, I saw that French film… Brotherhood of the Wolves?”  
“Yes. Not really an accurate depiction of anything much, except the squalor, the poverty and the general insanity of the ruling classes at the time,” Dean said drily.

Over two hundred years.  
Dean was over two hundred years old.  
Cas repeated the number over and over in his head. He looked again at the face opposite and marveled at how human he looked. The freckles dusting Dean’s nose, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled, the slight hint of stubble on his cheeks, all that was so normal, so… unspectacular. Dean looked like a man in his late twenties, but he had been around already in the 18th century. Looking precisely the same.  
Of course, his eyes told another story. When Dean wasn’t carefully guarding his expression, his eyes bore the weight of centuries.  
Cas just didn’t dare think about how that weight felt like a lot more than two hundred years.

Dean got up.  
“I will make some enquiries and we will meet again after sunset.” He handed a card to Cas. “I expect you to be on time.”  
An address and a cell phone number, no name.  
Cas pocketed the card carefully and said quietly: “I get off work at 7 pm. My car is still broken.”  
Dean checked his watch. 4 a.m. – not much time until sunrise, but it would suffice.  
“I will leave you my car.” He slammed the keys on the table.  
“Thanks. I’ll take good care of it.”

The thought of having an accident and wrecking the beautifully restored Impala made Cas almost physically ill. He’d much rather have said no, but it didn’t seem to be an option, if the steely glint in Dean’s eyes was any indication.  
Plus, no car meant no way to get to Dean’s house.  
No way to get to work in the morning, either, since he sure as hell wasn’t going to carpool with Fred again after tonight.  
“Doesn’t matter. It’s only a car.”  
And with a whoosh of air, Dean was gone so quickly that Cas almost even didn’t catch the movement of the door shutting behind him.


End file.
